It's Not Fair
by Not-Your-Hero
Summary: Spoliers for the season 3 premier. It's right after Sara's funeral and Team Arrow sends Roy to tell Sin the news. To say she doesn't take it well would be an understatement...
1. Chapter 1

***Author's Note: After the premier, I needed to write this to deal with all my feels. I cranked this out in less than two hours, so I apologize for any mistakes I made. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.***

"Someone has got to tell Sin." Felicity said quietly.

Oliver, Dig, and Roy all nodded solemnly. All of them had just come from Sara's funeral, which none of them had wanted to go to in the first place because Sara was still totally alive… right?

As much as they wanted to believe that, they knew that that was a lie where no true comfort could be found. Sara not only was shot in the chest three arrows, but she also fell of the roof of a building. Sara was extremely tough, they all realized that. But even through all that, all the training, the weapons, the quips, she was still a human being with all the limitations of one.

But just because Sara had her limitations doesn't mean that they couldn't grieve. She was their friend after all. Oliver was leaning on a table, Roy and Dig both propped against the walls, and Felicity took her normal perch on her computer chair. Her fingers traced the keys of the keyboard. They absentmindedly went over the letters of Sara's name; over and over again.

"I agree." Dig replied after a long pause.

"I'll go. I know where she's living. Well, what you can call 'living'. From what research I've done, it's a piece of crap." Felicity offered, already rising out of her chair.

"How do you know where Sin is living?" Dig wondered from the shadows.

Felicity gave him a look that screamed, 'Really John?'

Roy shook his head. "No. I'll go. We have some resemblance of a friendship. She'll take it better coming from me, not some blonde chick she's never met before. Okay?"

"Good point." Felicity answered.

As Roy walked up the stairs, clad in his black suit, he looked like the Grim Reaper, off to tell his next victim when their life would end.

Felicity had given Roy the address of Sin's residence. He hustled down the streets- which was sort of difficult to do, since he was still wearing his suit that he wore to the funeral. He did his best to shake off the strange looks he got from passersby, especially the more rugged looking ones.

It took him awhile to actually get to the residence as he kept taking wrong turns or missing the streets. Finally, he ended up in the outskirts of the Glades. There weren't a lot of buildings, but the ones that were there were practically abandoned. A fire broke out her before he was born and much of this sector had suffered. The city didn't bother building it.

The house Sin was holed up in was hardly a house. Just four cement walls with a collapsed roof that had been replaced with a tarp. A bonfire was burning inside, as he could see the light through the tarp and smell the smoke. He thought he could hear Sin humming a tune.

"Sin? You home?"

There was the distinctive cocking of a handgun. "Who's there?" She asked defensively. There was a trickle of fear in her voice.

"Sin, its' me Roy- Abercrombie. I know it's been a long time."

There was the clicking of a lock being unlocked. The door swung open. Sin's face peeped out, covered in dirt and more than a few bruises. "Abercrombie? Shit, where have you been?" Sin wondered. Roy was relieved that she sounded relieved to see him. But that also worried him; it made what he about to tell her so much worse.

She let him inside. "What's with the suit?" Sin asked while Roy was trying to make sense of the messes of graffiti in the walls.

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You joined a secret agency and want to recruit me? Sorry, pretty boy. I'm doing just fine on my own. As you can tell by my humble abode." Sin joked. She tucked the gun into a cinderblock on the floor. When she did so, her jacket slithered up her abdomen a bit. Roy could make out stark bruises and what appeared to be knife slices. He winced a little.

"Not exactly. You might want to sit down."

Something in Sin's dark eyes flickered. She understood the magnitude of Roy's visit. Slowly, she sat down on a cinderblock. Roy pulled up a wooden crate from the corner. "This... this is going to be tough to hear-"

"Just spit it out. Whatever it is, I can take it." The venom masked her fear.

"Sara… Sara was killed a few nights ago. I'm sorry." He said slowly.

God, the look on her face. It sunk in a way that was so painful Roy would have rather shot himself in the throat.

Tears welled in Sin's eyes. "No. She can't be dead. She's just gone missing like when she was shipwrecked. She can't be dead!"

"Sin. We have a body this time. She was shot three times in the chest with arrows, fell off a building. She fractured her skull. She's not coming back this time. I'm sorry." Roy replied as calmly as possible. Though that was difficult with Sin being as hysterical as she was.

Sin took a deep breath, stood up, and sauntered over to the wall. From there, she started pounding the solid cement with her fists screaming that it was unfair. She thought back to that conversation in Verdant. How Sara had said that she was her little sister and she would never have to know what it was like without Sara.

But Sara had been gone for five months. No letter, no postcards, no emails. Sin has had to fend for herself and has been doing a poor job of doing so. Most of her old friends wouldn't talk to her because they knew she affiliated with the Canary- whom had taken down their own criminal activities and forced them to face justice. She had been used as a practice dummy for a lot of up and coming gang bangers and Sin could only do so much to defend herself.

Still, despite all that, Sara had still been alive. Maybe not physically there, but she was somewhere alive on the planet. Sin never even got to really say goodbye. Never got to tell Sara one last time what she meant to her.

And that was why she was banging on the walls and screaming so loud.

It. Just. Was. Not. Fair.

Sin had been silent for a while. Eerily silent. She had stooped so she was sitting with her back to the wall and her knees tucked to her chest. She looked like she was concentrating all her energies on not crying. Which, Roy reminded himself, she probably was.

In the time since the melt down, he had examined Sin's condition.

Her clothes, which looked like they hadn't been properly cleaned in months, were covered in muck and grime. A rank smell diluted the air about her. Her face looked hollow, as if she hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks. Sin's skin had always been vampire pale, but now it was even more than vampire pale. Not to mention the bruises and scrapes about her face and chest. No doubt she had more on her arms and back. Maybe even her legs.

As horrible as all that was, none of it was as sad as the look in her eyes.

When Roy had first met Sin, she was all cockiness and swagger. A bit over confident, yes. But all Glades' kids needed to be that way if they wanted to survive. Maybe she wasn't always happy but she sure made you believe she was better than you.

Now, even before he delivered the terrible news, she looked beaten down. Defeated. Like this tough life had finally gotten the better of her. And, in part, Roy blamed himself.

He should have realized with Sara off with the League that Sin would be vulnerable to all kinds of crap. Perhaps he didn't really owe it to Sin, or even Sara for that matter, but he should have protected her. Kept in better contact looked after her. After all, street rats should stick together, right?

He looked over at Sin for the millionth time. "I really am sorry, Sin."

"Get out." She muttered.

"Wha-"

"GET OUT!" Sin roared.

Roy, remembering the gun stashed under the cinderblock, backed up to the door. "Sara's buried at 52nd street when you want to see her." He said before hustling out.

On the way back to the Foundry, he made a mental note to tell the other's they need to make more patrols to the burned out section of the Glade's and keep an eye on Sin; make sure she's safe.

After all, Sara would want that.

*** So what did you think? Pleas leave a review! Also, the next chapter of 'You're Always Welcome Here' will be coming out within the next week or so. I've just been so busy with school and work I haven't had a whole lot of time to write, so I'm sorry about that. Thanks again for reading!***


	2. Chapter 2

***Author's Note: So, here's the second chapter! I have plans for a third chapter, but I still need ideas. If you have any let me know! I love to hear your guys' input. Also, if have any ideas for the sequel to "You're Always Welcome Here" please let me know! Anyways, please enjoy.

It was raining as Sin made her way down to 52nd street. Her worn boots squeaked often, despite Sin's attempts at being quiet.

She still didn't want to believe Roy. She didn't want to believe that the only real friend she's ever had was dead.

No.

Sara was much more than merely a friend.

She was an older sister, a mentor, a hero. Someone to look up to and to emulate. And, even, in some ways, Sara was like a mother to Sin.

Now she was dead. Gone.

The thing that pained Sin more than anything was that she never even got to say a real goodbye to Sara. The last time they talked was right before Sara sped away on that damn motorcycle, not knowing when she'll come back, but promising to anyway. Well, that promise was shattered into a million pieces.

Absentmindedly, Sin's fingers ran over the cool metal of the switch-blade in her jacket pocket. Sara had given her the knife one day at the clock tower- stating that she always wanted Sin to be armed. Just in case she couldn't be there to save her. It almost pained Sin to touch the knife now. It was one of the only physical reminders that Sara had been a part of her life.

But the greatest gifts Sara had given her were the type that could not be seen; rather they were felt.

The training sessions in the clock tower. Sara had taught her a lot about fighting in the months they knew each other. There was a lot of pressure point work- since Sin lacked physical strength and everybody was affected by them. But there was also weapons work too. Mostly knives and gun defense (the last weapon Sin wanted to use was a gun. They had taken to many friends from her. But they were the most common weapon in Starling City, so she needed to be prepared to fend against one).

But as much as she loved the training sessions, as rough as they could get, Sin's favorite part about being with Sara was when they would just talk. And not even about anything in particular. Just about cars passing by on the streets, or their favorite movies and candies, or sometimes even the more sensitive topics, like family. Often, the two of them would stay up late discussing crime in the city, their own past experiences with it.

Sara was the first- and so far only- person who Sin trusted one hundred percent, would risk her life for.

Why do the people you love the most always die the quickest?

Sin thought about all these things, and more, as she made her way to the graveyard. By the time she got there, the rain had let up some and Sin trekked through the muddy ground, searching for Sara's headstone.

She found it eventually. The dirt was fresh. She had only been recently buried.

She sank to her knees in from of the headstone, barely comprehending that her mentor- her best friend- was only mere feet below her.

A sharp flick of anger coursed through her body when she saw what the grave stone read. _'Sara Lance. 1987-2007.'_

Team Arrow didn't even give Sara a fresh grave. They just reused the old one, from when she first died. God damn it, Sara deserved far better than that!

Agonized screams released themselves from Sin's gut. There weren't any intelligible words flying from her mouth, just animalistic noises of pain. Sin began pounding the ground with her hands, which were bruised from banging the wall just the day before.

"You deserved better! You deserved better than being murdered on a fucking rooftop and fucking falling to the ground! You deserved to die, old and wrinkly and warm in your bed a hundred years from now! God damn it! You deserved so fucking better!" Sin screamed at the headstone.

An angry little body of dangerous fire, Sin curled herself into a tiny ball and continued her devastated sobs.

Laurel attempted to go back to her apartment. But all she did was find that little shark Sara used to always use to comfort herself when she was scared or afraid. Laurel tried to cuddle with it, feel any lasting sensation of her sister.

It wasn't the first time she had cuddled with it. When Sara had been reported dead nearly seven years ago on the Gambit, Laurel had dug it up. It thrown into the bottom of some cardboard box, along with some picture frames and old clothes. When Laurel rescued it from its cardboard cage and brought the plush of its body to her chest, she wept for nearly an hour straight.

Anytime that things had gotten really bad, the nights when she felt particularly lost or useless or alone, out came the little shark; and any connection to Sara that Laurel had left.

The shark only smelled like dust and brought more tears to Laurel's red-rimmed eyes. It brought back to many memories of their childhood. Most of them were good, happy, and cheerful. And, god, they pained her so much more than any of the sad memories ever could.

Not knowing where else to go, Laurel decided to go back to Sara's grave. It's not like she had anything better to do. Other than finding whoever killed Sara. And honestly,m she was too sad for that right now.

Hugging herself to defend from the chill of the rain, Laurel stumbled across the mushy, muddy ground to Sara's grave.

Safe to say the last thing she was expecting was to find a teenaged girl huddled on top of the freshly lain dirt of Sara's grave.

*** So what did you think? Please let me know! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's Note: Thanks to all those who are reading this! You guys are amazing! Please, if you have any ideas please let me know! Also, changingdestiny40 pointed out to me that there is a petition they're doing to bring Sara Lance back. You can find it at: /go/z/e/AkvAa. Also, be sure to share the link on twitter and tumblr. Thanks you guys and enjoy!

Laurel was extremely confused to see a teenaged girl covered in mud and bruises hysterically crying over her younger sister's grave. Carefully se approached her. Could Laurel be in the wrong area of the cemetery? Is she intruding on someone else's grieving place?

But, no. As she neared the girl, neared the grave stone, she saw that she had not made a mistake. This was in fact Sara's resting place. And the girl was in fact crying because of Sara.

Laurel cleared her throat and asked, "Who are you?"

At the sound of a strange voice, the girl sprung to her feet, whipped out a knife, and struggled to stop her tears. All within the span of less than three seconds. The girl's breathing was ragged from all of her crying and sudden burst of adrenaline.

"Who are you?!" Sin half yelled, voice extremely hoarse. Not only from all her crying, but her screaming just the day before.

There was something very familiar about this girl, Laurel thought. Something about the spunk and feistiness that rang a million bells for Laurel. Then it hit her like a train. "You're Thea's friend. Sin, right?"

Sin relaxed the tiniest bit from her fighting stance and lowered her knife slightly. She stared at the woman, eyes raking her up and down several times. "Wait a sec. You're that uptight office lady. You helped with Max's murder." Sin replied coldly. She still wasn't quite sure about this woman.

"I am not uptight! Listen here-" Laurel began, aggravated.

"Honey, yes you are. Now why the hell are you here? Something tells me you weren't out for a midnight walk." Sin interjected, gesturing towards Laurel's heels.

Laurel sighed and glanced at the head stone only mere feet away. Her eyes wondered to the small pile of fresh dirt beneath Sin's boots.

"I'm Laurel Lance. Sara is- was- my younger sister."

That's when it all began to fit for Sin. Sara had mentioned her older sister on more than occasion; often had raved about what a good person she was and how she couldn't let Laurel see her like this- a killer. Anything but the innocent little girl she remembered.

Of course Sara's big sister would be visiting her grave. Who else would come at this ungodly hour, to this creepy-ass cemetery? And Sin did remember interacting with her once before, in that crowed office. At the time, Laurel seemed very high-strung and stressed. Compared to now, that Laurel was like a basket of peaches.

Finally, Sin returned her knife to her pocket and relaxed into a less defensive stance. Laurel took a few steps closer to her and her sister. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you about the funeral. It… it all happened so fast. Too fast." Laurel apologized quietly.

The demeanor of Laurel changed when she talked, even vaguely, about Sara. Normally, Laurel stood completely poised, like a boss ass bitch. But when her thoughts fluttered to her dead sister, Laurel's body slacked. He back bent, her shoulders sagged forward, and her words were dripping with pain.

If Sin was a hugger, she would have totally hugged the woman. But the last person Sin had hugged was Sara. Now it felt like a betrayal to hug anyone else. God, Sin felt so lost without Sara. Why did she have to be taken from her?

"I'm sorry. I'll leave you to… whatever." Sin answered quietly. She shoved her fists into the pocket of her jacket and began meandering off.

For a few steps, Laurel watched her leave. Then her senses came to her. This girl was just as torn up about Sara's death as she was. If Laurel couldn't offer her anything, then maybe she could at least give the girl a chance to know that she wasn't alone in her pain. Let herself know that she was not alone in the pain.

"Sin, wait!" Laurel called out.

Confused, Sin spun around. "Yeah?"

From her tone, it was clear that she was desperate for the same thing Laurel was.

"Come on. I need to show you something."

It took a little more convincing than that for Sin to tag along with Laurel, but eventually she did. Sin had to remind herself that if Sara loved Laurel and thought her to be trustworthy, then that should be enough for her. Sara didn't trust easy. Plus, she was an excellent judge of character.

So, that's how Sin ended up in Laurel's apartment.

"Sorry about the mess." Laurel apologized as she disappeared down a hallway.

"Mess, my ass." Sin grumbled under her breath. Compared to the shit hole she'd been living in for the last few months, this place was a palace. Everything was tucked away in its own little place. Only a few stray magazines and food cartons were strewn about on her coffee table.

Sin looked at the pictures on one of the walls. There were a collage of pictures, all arranged in some sort of timeline. It started when Laurel was a kid, and moved to present day. A particular photo that caught Sin's attention was one of a young kid, no more than ten, with a yellow canary and a man next to her. The yellow canary is what clued Sin in to who the girl was.

Sara. As a wee little one. So that's where she got the inspiration for her 'Canary' name.

Laurel returned with an envelope and a stuffed shark a few moments later. She handed the envelope to Sin. She shifted the shark between her hands as she watched Sin read the words on the envelope.

"I was going through Sara's stuff. Attempting to find a lead on who might have killed her. And I found this. It didn't have an address on it. It says 'To my-"

"Little sister." Sin finished, reading the name on the envelope.

"Yeah. I had no idea who she could have meant. But, when I saw you in the cemetery, it clicked. I- I haven't read it yet, I promise. So I'm not exactly sure what's in there. Though, I know you deserve to know whatever is inside." Laurel explained.

Sin had to take a breath. She stared at the words on the envelope; she found it endearing that Sara had written directly on the envelope, she didn't know anyone that did that sort of thing. Sara's handwriting was exactly how she had envisioned it: scrawled, barely readable. As if, even with a pen, she was reckless and always dove headfirst without much thought.

"Thanks. But what's with the stuffie? I know I'm young, but I'm not _that_ young." Sin quipped.

"It belonged to Sara. She would always bring out when she was having a bad day and snuggle with it. I figured that maybe you would want it."

Carefully, Sin placed the letter in her back pocket, and, with shaking hands, reached out for the shark. It was coarse with years of use. Spots of the felt were matted and dirty, as if from tears. It's beady, glassy, eyes stared up at Sin. She could see a partial reflection of herself in its eyes.

"Thanks. Thank-you." Sin whispered.

"You're welcome."

As Sin made her way out of the door, Laurel beckoned to her. "Sin. There's a key in the flower pot. If you ever want a couch to sleep on or some food in your stomach."

Sin nodded and stepped out of the door. She hurried home.

Sin had put the letter from Sara in the cinderblock, next to her gun, started a fire, and was now sitting on the crate staring at the stuffed shark. Slowly she pulled it to her chest.

It did not smell like Sara.


End file.
